These Jane Moments
by PearlQ19
Summary: A series of one-shots based around the relationship between Jane and Lisbon. Chapter 1 up, hopefully many more to come, if time allows. Since I started this two years ago, most scenes are set at a point way before season 6 came along, but I promise you pure Jisbon! Rated T just in case.


**The Mentalist: These Jane Moments**

_A/N: __This will, I hope, extend into a series of one-shots revolving around Jane and Lisbon, showing different aspects of their relationship. The storylines are generally unconnected, but there might be some progress through the chapters as they proceed. I will provide an introductory remark regarding the setting of each, though.  
I started writing this two years ago and I do have some fragments already, so most installments will probably be set at a point in Jane and Lisbon's relationship before season 6. I am, as usual, trying to stay as canon as possible.  
As always, please leave a review if you feel like it (all feedback welcome, including criticism as long as it's constructive), and the non-native speaker warning applies._

_Classification:__ Character-driven series of mostly unrelated one-shots that could fit anywhere in the show, but most will probably go best somewhere in seasons 4 and 5. Centric: Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon. Rated T just in case._

_Disclaimer:__ "The Mentalist" and all its characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them from the great Bruno Heller for non-commercial reasons. It's your own fault, Mr. Heller – why did you have to make these characters and the show so inspiring?_

"**CAN I CUDDLE UP?"  
**_Lisbon has been wounded on duty and is in the hospital._

The light stung in her eyes and made her head hurt. Slowly, Teresa Lisbon blinked and tried to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness. She had been anesthetized, she supposed, and was now experiencing the joys of coming back to life.

She left her eyes just a little bit open and focused her other senses instead. There were other people in the room; she could hear them breathing. Someone – Rigsby? – was talking in a low voice. It made her feel better, knowing that at least some of her team were here to wait for her. After all, if it hadn't been for them, they would be on a cemetery rather than a hospital room now.

"She's awake." Light footsteps approached her bed. Someone bowed over her and covered her hand with his. Cool to the touch. Lisbon didn't have to open her eyes to know it was Patrick Jane. His fine-tuned senses must have noticed the change in her when she woke up.

"Boss?" That was Cho. So he was here, too. A second later, the unmistakable sound of high heels clicked on the floor. That would be Grace Van Pelt. Rigsby, she had already heard talking, and Jane was right next to her, and from the feel of it he had just sat down on the edge of her bed. His hand was still holding hers, and Teresa gave it a light squeeze and opened her eyes.

They were all there, faces drawn with worry and lack of sleep.

"How long was I out?" Lisbon asked.

"You went into surgery this morning," answered Rigsby. "Now it's just past ten in the evening. Doctor says you're OK." The relief in his voice was audible.

"They got the bullet out," added Van Pelt, her voice still a bit wobbly. She had been the one to fire the shot that prevented the worst from happening when the suspect had had a gun to Lisbon's head, having proven that he didn't have any scruples to pull the trigger for real when he'd shot her in the arm a few minutes earlier. Van Pelt had taken a tremendous risk when she shot the suspect, but his finger had been squeezing down on the trigger already…

Lisbon for her part was glad that Grace had taken out the shot.

"That's good…" she managed, referring to the bullet. Her voice was cracked. "And the suspect?"

"Dead as a doornail," reported Cho. "Grace got him good. You were already out by the time the ambulance arrived… the doctor pronounced him dead on the scene."

Lisbon leaned back into her pillows and nodded her acknowledgement. Feeling Jane's intense gaze on her, she turned her head a little to look at him, expecting a snide remark.

He didn't speak, though, just gave her hand another squeeze.

"It was very good of you all to come," Lisbon mumbled. She was feeling drowsy, about to drift off again. "Now go home. I'll only fall asleep again, and now you know I've survived it all…"

A smile from the team. "All the best, boss," said Cho, rising to leave. Rigsby and Van Pelt followed.

"Looking forward to having you back on the job, ma'am," said Rigsby with a smile.

Jane hadn't moved. "I'll stay for another minute if that's OK," he said.

"You do that," mumbled Lisbon. "But get a chair, will you?"

Without protesting, Jane let go of her hand, rose, and grabbed a chair from the far end of the room. Lisbon watched him from under drooping eyelids and wasn't quite sure whether he came back to the bedside or stayed where he was. She was sleeping again.

###

It was in the middle of the night when Lisbon suddenly woke with a start. She'd had a nightmare, she assumed, even though she couldn't remember anything, because her heart was racing and she was perspiring. For a moment, she just lay on her back and concentrated on reality. The hospital room, the blinking and beeping of the monitors, the beam of moonlight through the window…

Patrick Jane slumped in the chair by her bedside, his head on the edge of her bed, his hand curling towards her.

Lisbon jumped, just a little, and Jane's head shot up. "You OK, Teresa?"

"What are you doing here?" Lisbon asked. "It's the middle of the night!"

Jane shrugged. "I didn't feel like leaving you just yet. And then I must have fallen asleep." He stretched tentatively and grimaced. "Yup, my back's all fucked up."

Lisbon didn't know whether to laugh or to be angry. She settled for a look somewhere in between, which she often used on him.

"Go home, Patrick," she said. "I'm fine. Really, you should go home."

The look on his face changed to something else: part stubbornness, part sadness. "My house hasn't felt like home in years," he said. "Home is where you are, where the team is."

Lisbon waited for the punchline, but this time he seemed to mean it. She was surprised and touched but decided not to comment. Jane with his eerie powers of observation would probably know, anyway.

"But your back," she pointed out instead. "You'll be feeling like an old man if you stay in that chair all night."

"True." Jane stood from the chair and stretched again, arms high above his head. There was an audible crack in his neck as he rolled his head from side to side.

Lisbon started to lie back again, thinking he would pack up and leave, when he came back to her and sat down on the bed. The old mischievous glint was back in his eye, and she guessed his intention a split second before he swung up his legs on the bed as well.

"You are so not getting into this bed with me!" she protested.

"Well, you told me not to stay in that chair," he retorted, and Lisbon was sure he was secretly enjoying this. "Do you want me to sleep on the floor? Like that would be better for my back…"

Lisbon sighed. "I want you to go home and not sleep here at all."

Patrick, who had in the meantime stretched out on the bed beside her, turned to face her and got up on one elbow. "Teresa," he said, "if you really want me to leave, then OK. But this would probably send me on a bender, because I sure as hell can't go to my home right now. Everything there reminds me of terror and loss, and I simply can't bear that tonight. Not when I very nearly lost you today." He was very earnest now. "So I'm asking you again… do you really want me to leave?"

Lisbon held his gaze for a long moment. Usually she would have accused him of manipulating her, but this time she thought he might actually be sincere. And she had never been able to hurt or disappoint him willingly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, whatever," she sighed. "Just don't let the doctors or the team catch you there. I really don't need any more misunderstandings." With that, she turned her back to him and scooted over a bit to make more room for him. It wouldn't help if he fell out of the bed in the middle of the night.

She felt him move behind her. "Care for a cuddle?" he asked nonchalantly.

Geez! "No," she said pointedly, but couldn't suppress a small smile at such brazenness. Always going one step further, that was him.

"I can hear you smile, Teresa," came his voice from behind her back, but he did not touch her.

In the end, she was the one to reach back, take him by the wrist and allow his arm to loosely rest across her waist.


End file.
